


Plush

by AetherBunny



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Footnotes, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherBunny/pseuds/AetherBunny
Summary: There were times when Crowley could hardly stand to even look at him. Perhaps it was the bewildering, rage-inducing need to wrap his arms around him and squeeze until he burst into a cloud of feathers.-Crowley attempts to make some sort of point, but distracts himself with his favorite topic-(One-sided because it's Crowley-centric and Az himself isn't present.)





	Plush

**Author's Note:**

> It's set whenever, time means little to angels and demons.

Crowley liked the word “plush” it was a good descriptive word. It conveyed a sense of softness and luxury without sounding too pompous*. He liked to think of it as a portmanteau of _"pleasant”_ and _“lush.”_ In reality he was sure it was not, but since when had that ever stopped him before. Few things in his life were plush, but those things were very important. His beds were always plush, sleeping was an excellent pastime and one he took very seriously. He liked his plants lush, and that was pleasant, but to get them to stay that way he had to be anything but. Crowley himself was certainly not plush. No. He was all hard lines, and cold scales, and pointy teeth.

Just because he wasn’t plush doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it on other people. It would be a dream to get his hands on thick thighs and a healthy backside. To curl up against a plush middle and doze like the cold-hearted reptile he was inside.

He’d seen his fair share of plush individuals over the years.** Not to be _romantic_ about it, but he was waiting for just the right kind of lush and pleasant to allow himself to give into temptation.

The same kind of temptation he supposes, Aziraphale allows himself when they go out to eat.  
It would be the death of him the way the angel wrapped his lips around a fork. He’d always see the jealous looks other diners sent his way. They could get a paper cut, Mr. Fell was with him thank you very much.

Well not _with him_ , but with him. You know.

But everything about the angel was pleasant and lush. Which struck him as odd considering his memories of heaven were anything but plush. It was stuffy and sterile and a lot like hell but with different decorative tastes. It was part of Aziraphale's gaggingly sweet charm he supposed.

What exactly was it about Aziraphale that sent him into a deep frothing confusion? He had all the charms of an overstuffed but supremely comfortable basement couch. That has perhaps seen better days but you can't bear the thought of getting rid of it and trying to fall asleep on something new. 6000 years was a long time to wear a groove into a couch...

There were times when Crowley could hardly stand to even look at him. Perhaps it was the bewildering, rage-inducing need to wrap his arms around him and squeeze until he burst into a cloud of feathers. He considered it was an underutilized serpentine instinct, but he did not feel that way around anybody else. It was a jittery, light headed sort of sensation at times. One he had figured out was not from any sort of long term exposure to divine entities. He was, in fact, at one time, a divine entity himself.

Speaking of divine entities there was that one time Aziraphale told him Gabriel had made him feel BAD about himself?! Made him feel BAD for being the softest most wonderful thing to come out of heaven since the beginning of creation! As if he didn’t hate Gabriel enough already! The nerve! That thick headed imbecile. Aziraphale was perfect just the way he was! They should really be thanking him for his looks. Az was exactly what you'd WANT an angel to look like! Approachable! Friendly! A wee bit divine and mischievous. Does Gabriel think humans would rather come to an unfeeling cold bastard like himself for help? Or someone who looked more like a Cherub than the Cherubs! Come to think of it, humans probably though cherubs were chubby and baby-faced BECAUSE of Aziraphale. One too many small miracles for some renaissance artist that's what it was.

Who was Crowley to tell humanity the majority of angels were pretentious model types who did a decent job of pretending to care. Unlike proper good hearted angels who liked to feed ducks in the park.***

This might be a good time for Crowley to remind himself that he was not at all in love with Aziraphale. He was a ridiculous stubborn brat. Always needing rescuing, or some sort of petty miracle “too small” for him to do for himself. And Crowley fell for it every time! What a fine demon he was! Wrapped around the wing tip of some ineffable cuddly toy! Shameful, that's what it was.

Never mind how he'd let his mouth stain red after eating an ice lolly, or how he'd always take just a moment to breathe and collect himself before cracking open some new important book. Never mind how he loved all the creatures in creation****, no matter how weird or disgusting, baby bunnies and centipedes alike.

  
_Ah, but he **WAS** in love with Aziraphale._

  
He liked him, thank goodne- bad- thankfully he liked him. He liked him more than he ever did anyone on his own side. He was a cheeky sun of a gun and good for more than the occasional laugh. It would have been a hell of a time on earth without somebody to get along with.

He certainly lusted after him. As a demon it was impossible for him to see something so willfully naive and NOT want to defile it. Such an open eager face, on a wonderfully plush body. He'd never tire of looking at it. Crowley wanted nothing more than to take him to bed and hand feed him all sorts of sweets. He had never personally done any carnal temptations, he was mostly about giving people ideas. But if Aziraphale wanted to test out some bits or something he'd gladly participate.  
  
But overall he loved him. By all the fires of hell, he loved him.  
His sweet giddy smile when he makes himself laugh with his own jokes. His innate softness that makes him bend over backwards to help those who need it. All the stupid human habits he's picked up over the millenia. His love of books, food, and of all things _parlor magic_. His willingness to deviate from heaven's orders to do what is truly right and not just what's "good." His phenomenal quiet strength. His silly little nose wrinkle. He could spend eternity cataloging every little effervescent thing, and it still wouldn't be enough time.

When he had interrupted himself with thoughts of Aziraphale, Crowley had completely forgotten the point he was going to make.

No matter, it was now exceedingly important he go visit his favorite book shop and perhaps pick up some macaroons or a sweet roll***** on the way.

*Pompousness was for the suits downstairs, he was a demon of the people.  
** And years and years.  
***And perform an astonishing amount of totally unnecessary little miracles for whomever they felt deserved them.  
****Crowley hoped he could include himself.  
***** Or two or three

**Author's Note:**

> I've loved this book since I was 17 and read it for the first time. I'm so happy everybody else now loves it as much as I do. Expect more fics when I can motivate myself.
> 
> You can now visit me on a sideblog on tumblr as Aetherbunny of course. I'm still sort of setting it up and deciding how I want to maintain it. But feel free to say hello! or ask questions or perhaps buy me a kof fi if you know what I mean?


End file.
